Stained Steel
by TurtleFriedRice
Summary: He didn't care whether or not innocent blood was shed, he just wanted Zoro to watch exactly what his body could do. Angst and Trigger warnings. ZoSanZo
1. Chapter 1

**Warning: This story isnt a pretty story. It's going to have angst and TRIGGER WARNINGS. So be cautious reading ahead and any other future chapters please. Thank you! And Thank you MyLadayDay for bracing the story line and reading as well XDD**

* * *

Sanji knew it wasn't Zoro. That dark eye he knew so fondly that once brought him much inner comfort, were not possessed by the man he loved. No, they had been stolen, alongside the Marimo's body by a malevolent spirit the blond was not familiar with. He could only say, for the first time in his life, he feared it, the appearance of his beloved sending trembles through his body.

He'd just escaped, for now, and he could feel the touches of once gentle and precise hands bruised and engraved into his skin. His body unable to shake, he grasped at the front of his shirt in the most useless yet desperate attempt to hide himself from such a cruel gaze. Not like the bastard hadn't already taken what he wanted from Sanji, should the blood that trailed down his leg in a mixture of white or the bleeding carvings on his chest be any indication.

The blond was against a tree now, gathering his balancing and praying to his consciousness to look past the burn that split through him. He needed to focus, he wasn't in the clear, but damn was he an honest fool. Why had he not noticed it before, why had it only come to this for him to realize what had happened? Zoro, the real one, was gone. It was only his body, now in the control of another.

He cringed, watching the body of his once lover as it finally seemed to move out of its stilled state where it lay, cracking it's jaw back into place from a fierce kick. The spirit hadn't been expecting that, he thought he'd had the hold he needed. But no matter, he'd finished the deed he'd wanted to taste and now he was content. Now he could finish the blond off once and for all.

Rising to his feet, he turned, grinning wickedly at the sight of the poor pretty boy. Of course he was using the tree, as it appeared he wasn't as strong as he'd hoped. The break to one of his knees was immobilizing him slightly for now, much like he'd hoped. Though, now that he knew his true desire was to lick Sanji's blood off his blade, he'd only wished he'd been greedy with the second as well.

It was really a joyous occasion and one of his first real reasons to celebrate after gathering a human form once more. Not that the slaughtering of that school house in the earlier hours wasn't delectable enough, he rather liked playing dumb and shell shocked, much like his former master would have done. Still, he began to take steps toward his new prey.

Sanji felt soiled and could feel himself sliding down the bark against his skin, but he braced it, clenching his teeth. He had to think of something, he couldn't just stand back and watch. He was stronger than this, but at the same time he wasn't. He'd already let the other get the best of him mentally, allowed him to expose his body and violate him in ways his subconscious would never forget.

"Stay away from me, asshole, I don't care who you are, I'll kill you," he spat in mild warning, though the constant pounding in his head confirmed it was nothing more than an empty threat, whether he liked it or not.

The real Zoro, maybe, he could stand up against. But this, this was a power he never felt before and it terrified him. It was his swordsman's strength he knew, but it was intensified by an aura he could not identify. His body tensed as a dark chuckle slipped past the other's lips, a shine passing past his vision as the demon, as he would refer to him, adjusted his hold on the katana in his hand.

So he would dirty a sacred blade even more? It was already stained with Sanji's blood, but its tainted sheen made Sanji stomach ill. He could only hope wherever his Zoro was, he could not realize that which had been done to his most precious possessions.

"You and I both know that won't be happening, whore." The demon looked down at the blade, affectionately cuffing his hand around the blade as if admiring it. "I've had my taste of you. You were leverage to my cause."

The cook gritted his teeth. Leverage? Nothing more than a game pawn to some demon bastard? Like hell he was going to let him waltz back to the Sunny impersonating once more. Was that even his plan, to trick and betray them, picking them off one by one? Didn't he understand that if Sanji didn't return things weren't going to fly. Suspicions would only be corrected.

"Cause? What the hell might that be then? Where's Zoro?" he demanded.

The demon's eye traced over his pale and exposed flesh, admiring the craftsmanship of his bleeding wounds. They weren't deep, of course, only enough to leave a permanent mark, as otherwise the game would have been no fun. Sanji had been an empty canvas of slaughter for him and to make it even more exciting he'd been willing, going off of pathetic emotions versus gut instinct. It would be his undoing, which was sad considering the demon had hoped for more in whom his master had deemed an appropriate partner.

He only shifted the blade in his hand, still sporting a large and toothy grin as he displayed the sword. Sanji hadn't paid mind to it at first. Fuck, why should he, he'd been assaulted, raped and now his life was clearly in danger and he could not run, from lack of night vision and the damage to one of his legs. But then he saw it clear. He'd watched the real Zoro a million times, at least with his blades, fighting alongside them or even just the usual clean, of course he could pin point a difference.

That being, this sword was not one of Zoro's swords. It looked like it should belong, it had been tucked away in one of the sheaths, but it was not Zoro's. It was dark and black and in the moonlight it reflected back and almost eerie green jagged pattern from tip down. It was nostalgic, but Sanji had never seen it in his life. Why was it his heart raced at its presence?

The stranger lowered the sword then, glaring. Then he charged, aiming his sword for a swing. Sanji reacted fast, using the tree as a base to jump and push himself away, not even sparing a glance back at the tree and those around it that now lay in ruin. He landed quick and swift with a roll, cringing in pain and ignoring the thorny vines around him that plucked and picked at his skin before he jumped once again.

He was on the defense, a very uncomfortable place to be, but with one leg out of commission, the blond only had so many options. He landed on his feet again and watched as the demon had taken a moment to jump and laugh at his cowardly technique. It irked him, but he had no other choice. His eyes still fell to the blade. It had to be something special, there was no other explanation. Otherwise he doubted this son of a bitch would be insane enough to make little comments to it as he moved.

Sanji knew swords apparently had some spirit voodoo shit about them, he'd heard Zoro time and time again talking about the essence of the sword or the curse, but he had never seen it taken so seriously as to actually have a conversation. Not to mention, the disturbing content of the whispers, talking about dirtying him fully with the blood of beloved, to curse him like he'd once been cursed.

It's when he was distracted by this that Sanji finally made his regretful decision. He'd go on offense, this once, he could at least try to fight back before ultimately being taken down after such humiliation. Quickly, his foot was engrossed in fire and bracing any such pains he launched himself forward to kick down at the bastard.

Zoro's body probably had muscle memory though, the way it instantly shifted and his bare foot met with the sharp side of the unusual blade, digging into the middle of his heel in excruciating pain. Of course Sanji had no choice but to retreat, pressing his body weight back and off it and practically throwing himself to the ground in the most pitiful and worst position he could be in.

Already his mind knew what this meant. Had he only made better decisions before instead of trusting such an imposter he wouldn't have lost in such a shameful way, he would have been stronger and more prepared, but now he half wondered if he deserved it. Before he could fully realize his state of conditions, his arm was yanked and he was on his back, growling out as the bastard stepped onto both of his arms at the elbow, keeping them down.

Sanji attempted to thrash but it was no use, his fighting spirit dwindling when the tip of the black and green sword pressed into his throat, coxing his dirtied head back to the ground. Sanji clenched his teeth so hard staring down at it, he could taste his gums as they bled. So this was the end? His last view would be the sight of his possessed Zoro?

He was half tempted to start some cheesy rambling about how he knew he must really be in there, but he didn't, he only turned his face to the side in slight shame. His body had been had and now his mind, all that was left of him was death, so would he receive it?

The demon was much too amused, though, until he seemed to be having difficulties, he snarled, his hand turning white as he urged the blade more forward, finding a great resistance.

"I see…" he muttered under his breath in annoyance, prompting Sanji's eye to shoot back in alarm. "Out of everything, this is what you demand to resist, Roronoa? For a whore?"

Sanji's throat swelled. What was he even supposed to assume from this information? Was it the hand or the sword that was refusing? Was Zoro finally taking control of his body once more, a conversation he couldn't hear going down in his head? Or was it this green sword… Sanji's stomach dropped. A black and green soul, a sword that revealed a soul. His eye trailed down it in panic.

It sounded absurd, no, it was absurd as much as a demon possessing Zoro, but something inside Sanji knew it to be the truth. He didn't know exactly why, but just as how he could sense the evil presence in the man's eyes as he stared into that eye, he felt he was staring right at him, exposed.

"Zoro…?" His breathless whimper of a question hardly passed on the bastard's radar.

The demon seemed even more infuriated at the lack of cooperation, swiftly swinging the resistant sword to the side and glowering down its length. He snarled out in his frustration until finally coming to an abrupt decision. He had no use for incompetence; this sword was nothing more than a shell that had carried his soul for years, imprisoning it. It was just as disposable as Sanji, should he want to waste his time.

But he didn't. No, he'd make this fast and painful for each party, but in a way that pleased his curiosity. He tilted his head back and looked down at Sanji's face.

"Recognize him now?" he teased.

Sanji, his neck no longer in danger, growled out at him, a deeper anger raging through him. This whole time, this bastard had been using Zoro to do unforgivable things? Holding him captive as his own device? He thrashed in resistance, ignoring yet again his own limitations and pain.

"Give him back, you shitty bastard!"

The demon practically yawned, loosening his grip on the katana before his eyes trailed to the side a few feet away. "Fetch," he demanded and Sanji reacted quickly, his arm jerking to follow and reach out in an instinctual attempt to reach for the sword as it was launched to the side.

He cried out in agony, the blade clashing with his hand and cutting the top halves of his fingers clean off before meeting right into the dirt. His whole body curled inward, the demon stepping off his body.

Sanji's eyes were so wide, staring at the almost unrealistic image of his mutilated hand. But he couldn't forget his main adjective. He wasn't going to let that bastard have Zoro, not after he realized now what he'd done with the real him, that that sword held his very being. He immediately went back to reaching with his palm at least to grab at it, turning onto his knees to propel him forward when the second worst thing that could ever happen, happened.

Fucking swordsmen and their ability to land a blow moments after the swipe. He yelled out, his arm squirming back against his chest tight and his eyes closing so tight, the feeling past his wrist gone, the second slash cleaning his hand right off. It hurt, so bad his head was throbbing and his mind was beginning to haze, but he couldn't look away now. He forced his eyes back open and back on his objection. Whatever torture, he had to get Zoro, he couldn't let the bastard pick him back up. He had to take him back to everyone, they had to be reunited.

His hand gone though, he made a desperate attempt to still gather it. With his other hand, he reached out and closed the gap, grabbing the blade barehanded and practically rolling onto his back as he held it unbearably close. He tried hard to ignore the feeling of blood soaking him.

The demon in Zoro's body just watched almost disappointedly. It was sad and not in a sappy way at the display of loyalty, but more so at the desperation. The blond truly was an idiot. His grin returned and he pulled the empty sheath from his side and threw it out beside the whore, who undoubtedly would succumb to blood loss soon enough.

"Keep him warm, yeah?" he joked, before spinning on his heel and leaving the clearing, not even moving to retrieve any of the clothes he'd shed from himself in their earlier altercations.

Sanji braced his brave face a little longer until the realization he was finally alone set in, then he wailed out in a terrible pain, shooting up where he sat and dropped the sword to let it fall to the side and looking at what was left of his left arm. It was a clean cut, right at the hand, which he didn't even dare try to look for, knowing it to be in pieces and useless even if he wanted to try and bring it back to Chopper for reattachment.

His only luck came in the form of shock, that allowed him enough sanity to act fast. He quickly ripped off the shirt he'd so desperately tried to keep on before off, quickly wrapping it around the stubbed limb in an awful attempt to halt the bleeding. It had been soaked enough on its own from the damage to his chest, but now it was becoming drench. Next he crawled on his elbow and knees a few feet where his jacket and pants were, grabbing the sword only then to toss it ahead towards the pile of clothing.

He lost his fucking hand for this bastard and his dignity he wasn't going to lose him now and sword care wasn't exactly at the top of his list. Wrapping what he could of the jacket around it, he winced and whimpered, unable to stop the waterworks at his eyes from the sheer pain spreading across his whole body. He needed Chopper and fast. But how was he even supposed to get there now? He could barely walk and he was down a hand.  
Was he a fool for trying to put his dress pants on in this state? Probably. But he didn't fucking care. If he was going to die, he wasn't going to be found with his ass a bleeding mess and his family jewels for all to see. He would have some respect. Or even if he did make it to the crew, he wasn't going to humiliate himself in front of his comrades in such an exposed state.

He glared over at the sword to the side, covered in dirt now where it had clung to the blood from before. He didn't know anything about talking to fucking swords, but he could feel it, the guilty and watchful eyes on him.

"Shut up!" he screamed out, most likely to disguise another scream of pain, his shoulder's folding him inward as he brought his arm close.

He was fully ready to unload a whole ship full of shit on the swordsman if he was really there and give him the blame, but he just couldn't. It wouldn't make him feel any better in that moment even if his mind told him to do it anyway. Instead, he reached out and grabbed it again, holding it to his chest tightly, his grasp trembling.

Sanji wanted to get up now, to start his walking and find the ship or any help at all, but his body was so exhausted, alongside his whole mind. He'd been tricked by a man impersonating his lover and raped in the most humiliating way. Had Zoro seen that too? He must've, having been used as the very tool to mark his flesh. Then nearly killed, escaping only with a hand loss but the gain of a sword he magically believed to be Zoro?

"Bastard…" he cried softly, pressing his forehead forward against the metal in his grasp. He painfully shut his eyes again. He had to be close to bleeding out now if things were becoming numb. That or at least the shock and impending loss of consciousness were very close now. "Are you even in here?"

He heaved in his breathing, having not been able to calmly breathe this whole time and turned his head slightly to the side, his eye opening once more in a direction of forest he knew the ship to be in.

"I'm finally so close to bringing the real you back and…" He let out a hysterically sad laugh. "I can't even take you back to the ship… What are we going to do now, Marimo?"

As if he even expected a real answer from a sword, even if it was his stupid sword Marimo. Still, he pleadingly stared at the forest a moment longer, feeling a chill on his skin. He turned back to glance at the swords texture, willing to have any sort of connection or understanding.

"Hey… Zoro…" he spoke again to break the silence. "You know that stupid trick you do when you swing these things...where you fuck up the whole forest…?"

He bit into his bottom lip. No reply again of course, but still he was polite enough to willingly give enough time just in case before continuing. "Do you think you can do that for me? Cut us a way home?"

It was no use. The light from the stars and moon just faltered on the swords surface. Sanji held his breath. It was at least worth a try to hope that if Zoro was this sword he wouldn't be stubborn and would work for him, even though he'd never used a sword in his life. Were they even that similar to blades? Still, using Zoro slightly to get to his feet and stumbling a bit to find balance and not to just fall back on his ass again, he lifted the sword up in the direction of the trees.

"Just this way Marimo and we can't go wrong… here we go…"  
He swallowed thickly, raising the sword. He couldn't believe he was going to do this and if Zoro was here and would see this he'd laugh at him, but he sliced at the air then, much like bringing one of his knives down and his eyes widened with the backlash of air as something amazing happened and jolt of power left the edge of the blade and surged forward.

It sent the blond back to the ground, having been unstable enough to stand and deliver such a blow, but he groaned out in relief. It would be his last effort to be seen, but surely it did the trick if whoever was on watch on Sunny looked in the right direction, the surges of energy having practically thrown trees into the sky. Unfortunately, Sanji didn't get to admire his handy work, his exhaustion taking away his consciousness.

* * *

**Author's Note: Reviews and comments welcome! I hope something like this hasn't been done before XD surely not in this way but yeah. I was nervous about posting this dkjfshbksd I have no idea what I am doing**


	2. Chapter 2

Before Sanji's subconscious even realized he was still alive, he was dreaming. He was in a familiar setting that he couldn't identify but he felt safe. Zoro was there with him, holding him close comfortingly, his hand taking Sanji's and squeezing it tight in silent anguish, guiding it up next in his grasp to nuzzle it affectionately with the side of his face before kissing its knuckles. He seemed quite sad and Sanji just watched him in silent curiosity and confusion of exactly why.

They were happy weren't they? Together in this warm bubble of sorts inside his mind. But wait, Sanji began to realize, that wasn't correct. Something had happened and brought them apart. His heart began to slightly race and his brows furrowed as the Marimo's eyes met him, still holding tremendous guilt inside. Then like magic, Zoro was gone, a sword taking its place where he had stood. Gravity acted fast and while Sanji's hand still stayed where the swordsman had held it, it was no match for the blade.

The blond's eyes opened quickly in cold sweat as he gasped out, unwilling to rest and witness such tragedy twice. His eyes scanned the ceiling he stared at as he panted, seemingly coming to terms with being alive.

This was the Sunny, he was on the Sunny now in Chopper's infirmary. He could be fine now in better hands except...  
His body was sore and burned all over, his skin itching and pulling at stitched up wounds all over him, including in lower regions he was already mortified to imagine Chopper discovering.

But of course all of that didn't matter, it was just side information Sanji had been able to process in a few glances in only seconds. He had a much bigger concern.

Still lying flat on his back on the infirmary table the blond quickly and achingly pushed his arm forward into the sky, his eyes tracing up it where his hand, one of his precious hands, were meant to be. His heart sunk into his stomach and he held his breath, a low whimper rumbling up from deep inside him as tears already began to gather and escape his lashes. There was nothing, just a stub, wrapped thickly in slightly stained gauze and bandages. Sanji's body trembled and instinctively his elbow, which also just had to be from his dominant arm, came down to cover his face.

Granted there was no one else in the infirmary he had to be tucking his weeping face from, but he still felt cowardly and ashamed in the least. His body turned and curved inward toward the wall as he brought the remainder of his arm down and cradled it protectively, his eyes closed tight in a desperate attempt to hold back more of his despair that he was dying to be vocal about.

It just wasn't fair. Why did this all have to happen to him? What had he done to deserve so much when none of his intentions had ever been ill. It was quite obvious his shock from the previous night - or hell he was just assuming that had been how long, the fuck if he knew or cared- had vanished, leaving him with nothing but the honest and awful truth.

All he could hear was his old man's words from many years ago, when he was younger, banging inside his head. To protect his hands, they were a chef's most valuable tools, without them they are nothing. And here he was, he'd failed him. Sanji could try to look past and forget the rape or trauma, he knew it to be possible over time, but this was his hand. There was no getting it back. He already knew if Chopper could've, he'd already tried it and ultimately this was the new future Sanji would have to stomach.

The cook wanted nothing more in that moment but to break down and cry, frustrations and fear that had built up inside his mind finally draining from him. At least he was alone so that no one got to see him so raw and weak. Least, not awake and that way. It was probably more than obvious when he was saved the condition he was in - where the wounds were, what had caused them. Just imagining the pity that would no doubt come once they saw him awake had Sanji wishing he'd been left there to die instead. Maybe at least then some scavenger animal could have taken him away to be of some use and the crew would never find him either. But of course that wasn't an option, he couldn't leave Zoro there...

Just thinking about the Marimo had an ache rolling in his chest. Least he couldn't see him like this, though he'd pretty much witnessed it hadn't he? The blond dared to open his eyes and repressed a soft cry. Damn asshole, even like this he always found a way to be there in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The deep moss colored blade was there, laying parallel to him on the bed, right where he'd apparently held it protectively until now. Or so Sanji assumed, still seeing the coat of now dry blood crusted to it, mixed with some soiled dirt. He could only imagine having held on to him desperately even unconscious, as he knew his nakama would have tried to pull it away to get to him without distractions. Or just to see whose katana it was if they could recognize it.

They'd failed and Sanji never let go, until now at least, where his eyes continued to trace down its length. There was a soft glint that followed his gaze, reflecting the infirmary's light, as if signaling just what Sanji's concern was, that Zoro was there and conscious, watching. It was enough to have Sanji's eyes well up again, clenching his teeth cause that bastard was here, watching him unfold at the seams. But more than anything that he -was- here, as a shitty sword and not himself any longer. A fact that had convinced Sanji without a doubt when for once in his stupid life, only as a blade, he listening and helped him escape. It wasn't the cook who created that blast with the sword, he was incapable and had no knowledge of how it worked, it was Zoro, willing to do it for him in hopes he could get the help he needed.

With his good, still intact hand, he let go of his damaged arm against his chest, hesitantly and lightly shaking as he reached out. His fingers flinched lightly as their tips touched the smooth surface of the sword, stroking it barely in soft affection. He was probably crazy and picturing things now as he attempted to personify the katana, but he could have sworn there was a unique warmth to it, but also a tad sorrow. His fingers then curled around it on its blunt side and brought it closer until the blond could see his reflection in the glare and his mouth went dry. He looked like shit, just the way he felt. But he wasn't the only one.

Seemingly done now with his first depressed pity fit of many to come, Sanji glanced around the infirmary. There didn't seem to be much in here that could be of use to his next cause. Even so he tucked Zoro between his wounded arm and with his good one, began to lift himself up.

It was easier said than done though, jolts of pain running through him from his damaged leg or stitched wounds. He bit into his bottom lip, unintentionally opening a wound there and braced through it with enough composure to sit up and against the wall. He was in such bad shape, this was awful, and everything was. And as he looked to Zoro as he put him outright on his lap, he looked awful too.  
But how was he even supposed to clean a sword? He hadn't the first idea, never really paying attention to Zoro as he took care of his swords, more so yelling at him to do it elsewhere and not on his counter. His expression dim and his eyes narrow, he didn't realize it really when almost instinctively he held the sword in place with his good hand.

With his stub, which still made his stomach curl to see, he fished up some of the blanket that had originally covered him and brought it to the blade. Since he had inches of bandages around it, he could hardly feel what he was doing, just watching as he tried to wipe off the persistent dirt and grime from it. Even down a hand he could still be domestic, he noticed in a bitter way, but he felt a strong desire and need to clean Zoro off. He was a sword but still a person. If he deserved some sort of medical attention and healing, or cleaning up, so did the Marimo.

He could practically imagine what Zoro would even say to this. Calling him a moron for even trying while injured or for doing it in an obviously wrong way, but he didn't care. Still, it was useless, and his arm tired and pained quick so he paused, ignoring several new stains.

"Shitty Marimo." He breathed, his face feeling stiff from dried tears.

It felt so fucking awkward talking alone and to an inanimate object no less. He had nothing more to say to him anyway despite one of his names, knowing far too well he couldn't reply back and had no interest in conversation. Not when there was one thought that just engraved itself into his head and would never go away. The fact that he saw everything and was there. Silence was the best because honestly he didn't want to know what Zoro thought of it all, he was too ashamed and he wasn't strong enough yet to combat salt in such fresh wounds, if his thoughts were anything Sanji knew they had to be.

The blond got so distracted, staring down into the reflection of his empty eye, that he didn't notice when the infirmary door opened, the crews tiny doctor there in the doorway.

"Sanji?" He called out to his friend quietly until he realized the upright position he was in. "Sanji you have to lay down and rest, the pain must be unbearable!"

He quickly rushed over to where he was keeping an IV on standby, a fresh bag of medicine on it. He had only detached the cook a little earlier from his medically induced coma to see if he would still wake up on his own, but in doing so it meant no pain was being suppressed and any pain block still lingering would dwindle off and he'd need more ASAP.

Sanji just kind of watched him fiddle about, not really saying much. Chopper was his doctor, there was no way he didn't know what had happened either. Still he looked back down at the sword as if exchanging glances.

"No Chopper, wait." He spoke, his tongue shifting in such a dry mouth. "Find me... Find me something wet to wash this off with."

Chopper, confused, turned to his friend and looked at the sword he was gesturing to him. Was he hallucinating or something? Why was some sword his first priority over his own endangered health? Who did it even belong to? Admittedly he already had a sour attitude to the thing, getting bad vibes and smells from it and the way Sanji, though screaming his head off through his patch up procedure -which the blond most likely didn't remember from being drugged - he refused to release it from his grasp.

Still if getting what Sanji asked for would make him compliant and on his drugs Chopper didn't care.

The little doctor didn't know anything about sword care either, but grabbed a rag from one of his drawers and lifted it to his infirmary sink and drenched it, ringing out the access before bringing it back and handing it to him, whimpering slightly at the way Sanji lifted his stub in reminder that wasn't the best side to hand it to and he shifted to the other. Hopefully that would work, since the katana was just covered in blood and dirt. And disturbingly Chopper could tell it was Sanji's.

The cook looked down at Zoro once more, pleased to finally have something to wash him with. Internally he apologized for the mess, opting not to say it out loud and look bat shit crazy. This time he cradled it at the elbow of his bad arm and started to wipe it down with his only hand.

Chopper had gone back to preparing things and moved the IV stand closer, pausing to watch Sanji in his random yet dedicated work. He could still be in shock - odd behaviors such as these weren't uncommon to those who had gone through tough shit, but he'd be patient and go with it as to not alarm him or put him on the defense. He'd be more likely to comply that way. It was only if he would start humming that Chopper decided he would really worry about his sanity.

"Whose sword is that?" He found himself asking, acting interested in hope of a real response and insight of what was going on.  
Sanji nearly smiled at the way the dirt and blood cleared smoothly off the blade, its reflection giving a soft shine to him. What was that supposed to be? Some nervous kind of smile from the Marimo? But he didn't, only furrowing his brows painfully and looking up at Chopper.

He wanted to answer his question, to tell him what he knew but he did worry slightly if it would make him look even more insane. He should tell them so that they could proceed and catch that bastard in Zoro's real body but something still told him there was a better time for that. That he should be resting and gathering his energy up first before doing anything. His gaze traced back to his sword Zoro, where his fingertips still rested against the metal. Was he sending him these stupid thoughts or had he really gone nuts? At this point he honestly didn't know.

"I'll tell you later… With the others…" He mumbled. "It's important."

Chopper pressed his lips together, lifting up the end needle to the IV he needed to stick in.  
"Okay we can tell them later after they get back. They went to look for Zoro."

Hearing the swordsman's name ran a shiver down Sanji's spine. He watched Chopper gesture to the IV once more. He knew he needed it, he wasn't stupid, he was in pain but still unsettled. He had at least two questions to ask. First he lifted and looked at the bandages around his stub.

"Did you," he began with a thick and nervous swallow. "Do all you could?"

The tears Chopper had tried to stay strong and hide began to form in his eyes. He had tried, really tried hard to save Sanji's hand, knowing full well what it meant to him but it was much too damaged to even try. He wiped at his eyes with a hoof and soft wail.  
"I'm sorry Sanji, I really tried but it was too damaged for me to fix." He cried.

Sanji just slightly nodded, his attention back to the Zoro sword.  
"It's fine Chopper. You tried your best, I'll be okay. Can you help me find somewhere to keep this safe though?" Then he decided to add, "And close to me?"

Chopper was still wiping away at his eyes before looking at the random sword again. He didn't get it or understand. He thought Sanji's loss of limb or questions about certain damaged and sewn up places would have continued longer. But now it seemed like he didn't even care. That sword had to be of some importance to what happened out in the woods that night. Maybe perhaps it hadn't been Zoro who attacked him like the crew had thought. Maybe it was another swordsman who was the rightful owner of this one? But then why would Sanji care and why couldn't Chopper sniff out the scent of anyone else? Still he tried to be there for his friend.

He guessed he didn't notice, probably from where he sat and the disruption of view but the reindeer moved to the corner space between the end of the bed and another wall.  
"There's a sheath here we found… If you want it."

Chopper lifted it up. It had been the one thrown down from the demon in the woods. Since Sanji refused to let the sword go, naturally they just thought to keep the parts together.

Sanji took it thankfully, moving with slight difficulty but aiming the sword inside and slowly pushing it in. He averted his eyes as he did so, ignoring something telling him not to as he tucked Zoro away. He couldn't see Zoro's eyes anymore, if he could even technically see as a sword, but he refused to look at his face right now no matter how much he stressed and worried about his situation over his own. He just couldn't for now.

Even so he put it back long ways on the bed with him and allowing Chopper to help, he laid back down on some new propped pillows, courtesy of Chopper moving quickly as he had been slow trying to cope with new disabilities. He kept his damaged arm out though, not even flinching when Chopper struck his vein with the IV needle, having constantly and consistently been feeling worse. It came with immediate relief, and he felt his eyes grow heavy.

Chopper watched as sleep took hold of his friend. It, along with strong pain killers were basically a lot of what he could do for him now - letting him sleep through the pain and not worrying about eating or things like that, Chopper at his constant care and handling it. Sanji didn't need to suffer anymore, he just needed to heal. Even so, Chopper sighed. Was he ever going to understand the sword thing? He figured not and his plan to sneak it out back fired as Sanji's other arm clasped around it like some steel teddy bear.

* * *

**Author's Note: Yup... I continued it.. XDD heres to hoping this becomes something worth continuing. I have another chapter done and I'll upload it sometime in the near future, we will just have to see! I hope you really liked it ! Would love to know what ya think! Thanks so much for the read and THANK YOU Torchi-Chan for betaing ! **


	3. Chapter 3

Sanji stayed asleep more after that, not waking again until later that night, when the smell of something cooking from the kitchen next door pulled him out of a dream. It wasn't surprising though that someone else in the crew decidedly took the role of cook for a bit, seeing the shape Sanji was in, but he still couldn't help the ache of jealousy inside that perhaps they were already trying to see who could pitch in and try to replace him. He'd need time after all to relearn his kitchen or techniques with one hand, not to mention his dominant one. His stomach growled against his will. So he was feeling that too.

Chopper's drugs were a heaven sent. Sanji was awake and conscious but he couldn't feel his stitches or the burn of his knee or stub at all. He felt practically normal, though he wasn't and would never be again. It had him closing his eyes again for a bit gathering his thoughts and forcing himself to push away the negative ones urging to take control. He wouldn't let them though.

The cook gently raised his head, his glance moving to the sheathed sword next to him. Zoro. If he weren't so numb, he would have maybe released a small chuckle just from imagining how pissed the Marimo must be from being tucked away. That was of course if he as a sword now could actually see. But Sanji could have sworn he could feel it, an annoyed concern coming through it.

What'd he want, really? To be able to watch Sanji's image continue to shatter until completely broken? No. He could stay in his dark sheath and think about how he got into such a situation. The cook had other things he needed to deal with. Slowly he sat up, his body trembling as if he'd been resting in the damn fridge, and hesitantly grabbed the IV stand.

He couldn't tell exactly what they were discussing, but as he hushed his breathing a bit he could make out distinct mumbles of a rather serious conversation through the walls and in his kitchen. What were they discussing? Could it still be about him? Or Zoro's whereabouts?

The blond glared down at the floor. Since the incident, where apparently he had only been able to move thankfully to the assistance of adrenaline and shock, he hadn't attempted to stand. It was probably for the better he hadn't, the way his knee had been fucked up, but now was different. Although he didn't exactly feel he still deserved a place still here on the ship or even just a say in their discussions, he had a strong feeling in his gut insisting he forward the information he had regarding Zoro.

He stole a quick glance at the katana. His information was, after all what they would need if they ever wanted to get him back to normal- which even if Sanji didn't particularly like Zoro on random occasion, he did deserve to be returned to his own body.

Sanji turned back to facing straight and warily pushed his weight forward onto one foot. Instantly his weight buckled under him though and his eyes widened as his body slid and fell roughly against the side of the bed, the strength of his elbow keeping him there in an upright position, barely. He cursed under his breath, several nicks that he'd just noted were numb quickly became inflamed once more, even past the effects of Chopper's drugs. So maybe that was really dumb, but at least the Marimo blade couldn't have seen it or anyone else and even so it could be passed off as a side effect, right?

He grabbed tighter onto the IV stand, thankful it was steel, as he used it to transfer his body weight and lift himself up, straining his shoulder blades as he moved from the bed to it, clasping his other arm around it as well, unable to technically hold on with 'two hands' anymore, and caught his breath.

The cook looked down at his leg, still very swollen and hesitantly urged himself to try again, applying slight pressure to that side. It made him wince uncomfortably, but at least it seemed as he applied more, that getting up and using it again had just been such a surprise that his body wasn't prepared.

Experimentally again, he took a step forward, unfolding himself from a deadly grip around the stand to just using it as support. It took a bit to get closer to the door when he paused. He couldn't go leaving Zoro in here even if he wanted to. He was probably lost in the dark and even not being able to see, Sanji wanted him close for selfish reasons he didn't quite get himself. But considering he was using his only good hand now and it was help keeping him balanced, he wasn't sure how he would reach for him. He doubted asking the Marimo to move himself would do him any good either.

So he took a small detour from his journey of shuffling his feet to that he was closer and could bend, his stub able to reach out with his elbow and rake the sword against the bed and toward him, until finally under his arm.

He wasn't even a swordsman and he could only imagine just the way he was treating this sword, even if he was convinced it was Zoro, had to be offensive or harassment of some kind. At the very least disgraceful. Maybe Robin had a book on the subject, or he could ask Brook for later… He had an aching feeling in his gut that had already diminished any hope of this being over soon. Now he was certain, things would just be beginning.

Now that he was on his feet now and Zoro was tucked and ready to go, Sanji turned back to the infirmary door and began to move. It hurt at first and any time he hesitated for a long moment but surprisingly it did get easier. Perhaps he was in his own rehab?

He paused though when he got to the door, hearing the mutters louder now as well as the strong scent of food. It was bitter sweet, bringing back his dramatic thoughts from earlier and being replaced. More so he was bothered by his internal battle of being hungry, but not wanting to eat, lacking the motivation to even think to.

Balancing himself on both his feet for a moment he reached out and opened the door just a crack. Sanji was still a sly guy, he wasn't going to just intrude in mid conversation. Instead he leaned against the opposite side of the doorframe, so that he didn't open the door too obviously and listened.

It was definitely much easier to understand what they were saying now. They were discussing about Zoro and his location and how to find him, just hearing them bringing up his Marimo had his hand moving to the sword and instinctively and protectively tracing along the handle, dipping past the sheath enough so that the skin of his thumb pressed into the steel almost affectionately. Could he hear them now too, talking about him and wanting to find him, even though he was here with Sanji on the ship this whole time? He clenched his teeth, listening as the conversation took a change in direction. They wanted to find Zoro, as he was their nakama, but also for answers, clearly not okay with the damages done to Sanji's body that they simply could not see being from anyone else but the Marimo.

Technically they were right, it had been done from Zoro's own hand, but he was most definitely not the one in control of it. It bothered Sanji enough so that he decided to quit cowering behind the door. His hand retreated from awkwardly trying to comfort and caress a sword, to pressing the door open slowly.

His throat swelled in anxiety when he could feel the eyes of his crew shift to him, as if the fluorescent lights of his kitchen were actually spot lights. The sudden attention had the cook struggling for the words he wanted to say. Why hadn't he thought this far ahead? This was his family but also, he never looked at it correctly from their perspective. They probably saw him now as nothing more than the weakest link they have an obligation to avenge, or more so perhaps Sanji was just their hope at finding Zoro, whose body without his consciousness was the better man, at least now after their separations.

Or worse, they could look at him with the very knowledge of what Zoro's body did to him, how it violated him and won control. It made his skin crawl and he wanted to flee from their gazes so fast and just be gone, but he didn't.

It was as if two arms he couldn't see had wrapped around him silently, engulfing him in the confidence he severely lacked and urged him forward, to tell them what he knew. If not for his own benefit to be helpful, but for Zoro.

So when their captain went to speak, a rare but worried expression on his face he beat him to it.

"It wasn't Zoro." His throat burned, still quite hoarse and raw, the shock having definitely dwindled away from that area too.

Sanji internally cringed, or at least he thought, as he watched the faces of his nakama soften. Their gazes on him changed, almost pitying him and labeling him off like some battered woman who still defended her abusive spouse in bandages and stitches. It might have fit in an unusual way to how circumstances seemed, but it was far from it. Their comments about how they were sure there was a plausible explanation about all this and Zoro had him shaking his head. He had to make this clear and tell them what he knew.

Balancing alone without the IV stand again, and making Chopper almost shit bricks for doing so on top of literally pulling himself out of bed rest, Sanji pulled the Zoro sword free from his sheath still tucked under his arm and held him out before him, watching the way the light fumbled across it's crevices and showing just how bad his earlier cleaning job had been.

Sure, the Marimo wasn't sparkling for the occasion, but it would have to make do. He ignored his skeleton friend who was the first to ponder out loud about it, instantly his missing eyes finding themselves curious to such a blade he'd never seen before. Still, there was a time and a place and all attention was on the cook.

"It wasn't Zoro." Sanji repeated again with more emphasis, his eyes meeting with his reflecting on the blade. There was a moment he could almost imagine the swordsman staring back at him, equally as phased. "Because he's right here... With me."

That had them all exchanging glances, the first thought to each of their minds the same. How much medication had Chopper exactly prescribed?

It was his captain, whose imagination allowed him to be gullible and practically accept any twist in fate, who seemed to really hear what he had to say and not deem it too insane a thought right away. Because how was Zoro being transformed into a sword any weirder then Luffy's body being able to stretch or for Robin to be able to sprout any body part she pleases, where ever she may please? Hell, hadn't they even, or more just a few of them, ran into such a creature back way before, in enies lobby, where they had declared war on the government, an elephant sword or sword elephant of some sort? Really what was farfetched in their world anymore?

"Zoro… Is a sword?" He narrated everyone's thoughts, tilting his head to the side curiously and looking over it.

He tried to reach out for it but instinctively Sanji pulled it a little further away without thinking, reacting to those greedy hands he knew quite well could do damage on whatever he touched. But it only flustered him because he didn't mean to do it, it was just his mind going wild on its own again.

Instead, swallowing dryly, he moved towards the center of the table and placed Zoro down on it for all to see. He could just imagine the annoyed face of the swordsman being under all the random and confused eyes that fell on him. It made Sanji avert his eyes and take a step back. Bastard should have to explain the mess he got into himself, if only he could.

The crew didn't hesitate however to invade the swords space, lightly touching over it with fingers and inspecting its blade closely, as if a tiny Zoro would be trapped somewhere in the reflective surface. One by one they sat back into their seats a little disappointed. Of course they had hoped maybe this was just Zoro and the crimes they were hearing and finding to be true were definitely not his handy work.

Luffy and Brook stayed at it, the musician saying something under his breath to the Captain when he cuffed his boney fingers under the steel and lifted it up closer to his nonexistent eyes.

Sanji's gaze and attention failed to stay on him and the sword, the rest of the crew much more concerned with his state. A gentle caress to his cheek that had come in a breeze of flowers turned his face back where his people were talking to him. A few more had him lightly and easily shifting into an empty seat.

"What makes you think that's Zoro Sanji?"

Nami spoke first, knowing full well the cook would be more likely to respond to her in any sort of daze instead of anyone else, except of course Robin.

The blond tightened his grip on the IV stand that was still next to him. Now he was going to have to explain how he knew? But there wasn't a way to explain it! It was an insane unreal sensation and then when he had actually talked to the sword and asked it to save him... No he knew.

"It refused to kill me." Sanji explained flatly, as if it were nothing of real importance - which he was beginning to think true as he probably would have welcomed a quick death compared to the torture he had had. But ultimately he couldn't rest even in cold blood if he knew the Marimo to be trapped. "Then helped me escape."

Without noticing it he'd rested his elbow on the counter, his palm resting down on it, his good hand. The cyborg next to him had taken advantage of this. Obviously there had been some talk about getting Sanji back to the best normal they could and he pulled out a random measuring device and was cautiously, making sure not to touch and fright an anxious cook, taking down measurements. For a replacement cyborg hand most likely, but Sanji just wished he wouldn't. It was a devastating blow to lose his hand but a lot of himself said he deserved this for being so easy and weak and it was only right he leave it bare for all to see.

His dark thoughts were growing hard to handle, Sanji's eyes moving past his worried Nakama back to Brook.

"That explains the blast we saw." Usopp turned to Chopper who gave an agreeing nod. "We just figured that was Zoro leading us to at least find you…"

Robin rested her chin on the back of her hand curiously.

"Refused to kill you?" She mimicked the most interesting part she had heard so far.

It made Sanji's eyes visibly glass over and his neck and jaw tense just remembering how close it had been, feeling the top of the blade at his throat but then its resistance, followed by the realization of who it was.

He wanted to tell Robin, he even opened his mouth to speak but he couldn't find the words. He was sure he'd never be able to really tell them the chain of events that happened that night, the fact that they happened weighing down on his chest painfully.

Brook cleared his throat to break such consuming silence. His hand was on the katana's hilt now as he held it upright, his invisible eyes traveling down it. "Sanji-san, I have never seen or heard of a blade like this in my life."

With a single bone finger from his opposite hand he traced down a barely visible jagged line that traveled across from top to bottom, reminisce of a certain scar and promise, something their swordsman no doubt felt extremely strong about.

"But I can say that there is definitely a soul in here and it is very powerful and pure. I believe you saved it just as well from its dark place."

With a fingernail, he chipped off a remaining spec of blood, just in time for emphasis.

* * *

**Author's Note: cough. **  
**lots of thing this chapter. Thumb massaging Zoro, Franky sneaking in hand measurements. Brook being all one with the sword. interesting. **  
**XD**  
**I dunno what to say just kind of read it okay OTL XD**  
**Thank you Torchi Chan for Betaing ! I apologize if the pace comes off as slow for now.  
ALSO huge thanks to Nerisel for the new sexy cover image omg *q* XD There's a think to a bigger version of the image on my profile! **


End file.
